


Sticks and Stones

by dewinter



Category: Hit the Floor (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewinter/pseuds/dewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ruptured ACL, the surgeon says. Emergency surgery, out for six months minimum. Could be permanent damage to the knee. Career-ending, potentially. </i>
</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Zero is a nightmare patient. Jude's not much of a nurse, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticks and Stones

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about 1) LA, 2) basketball, or 3) rupturing your anterior cruciate ligament. Apologies in advance!

Jude only looks away for a moment. Lionel’s tugging at his arm, saying something like, ‘our EVP will be happy to go through the details with you, won’t you, Jude?’ and Jude turns away from the game for a split-second – _just_ a split-second. He turns away from where Terrence is thundering his way up the court, Zero open and waiting under the basket, and he’s just opening his mouth to say _yes of course, let’s meet for a drink after the game so we can discuss it further,_ when the crowd, as one, lets out an anguished, horrified gasp that has Jude wheeling round again, fast enough to give himself whiplash. That wasn’t a good gasp; it wasn’t the sort of gasp that comes after a particularly daring feat of skill, or a flashy trick shot. It was most definitely an _oh-shit_ sort of gasp.

There’s chaos on the court before Jude’s even registered what’s happened. Both teams are crowded round a huddled figure, and before Jude’s properly scanned the melee for Zero’s bleach-blond hair he hears, dimly, the commentator saying, somehow both solemn and gleeful at the same time, ‘well, folks, it looks like Zero is down here, this does _not_ look good for the Devils, he’s clutching his right leg, and this does _not_ look good…’

Before he’s really processed it, and before Lionel can catch his arm, Jude finds himself weaving frantically through the crowd, crashing down the steps from the VIP bar. There’s a dull rushing sound drowning everything out. Each step jars all the way up to his heart.

The medical team are on court by the time he gets there, pulling out splints and oxygen masks and ice packs. The crowd’s gone eerily silent, transfixed.

‘Sorry, can I just – can I –’ Jude says, edging his way through the gaggle of players and Devil girls. ‘Can I just – sorry, can I –’ His voice is coming out in weak, breathless gasps. His heart won’t stop pounding. People move aside for him, and he barely registers it.

The medics are in the process of wrestling Zero onto a stretcher. His leg is lolling unnaturally to one side. And still, he’s trying to brazen it out. ‘Guys, gimme some room,’ he keeps saying, struggling to stand up. ‘Just need to walk it off. I can get back in. Gimme some room.’

But all the colour’s drained from his face - Jude’s never seen him look like that. Ghost-white, bloodless. Jude’s frozen. It’s as though his brain can’t process the sight of Zero incapacitated. Zero’s trying to grin rakishly, but it’s weirdly lopsided, and it looks like it’s taking a monumental effort.

‘God, Zero, get the fuck back on the gurney,’ Pete says, trying to get a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

‘Na, boss, m’fine,’ Zero says, still trying to stand. And then he moves his leg – the one that’s flopping about uselessly – and his face goes even whiter, and he vomits neatly over the edge of the stretcher, splattering the shoes of the medics.

‘Okay, everyone back,’ one of the medics snaps. ‘Get _back._ Zero, _please_ lie down on the stretcher. No debate.’

‘Jude,’ Zero groans wanly, and he sounds so small and frightened and _in pain_ that Jude just wants to throw himself down on the court and cover Zero with his body.

‘Hey, hey,’ he says instead, shoving forward and kneeling down next to the stretcher as the medic straps Zero’s head in place. ‘I’m here. It’s okay.’

‘Jude,’ Zero repeats. His voice hitches halfway through his name. His face is a funny shade of grey now, and he’s shivering slightly.

‘S’okay,’ Jude whispers. ‘They’re gonna look after you. Don’t move. I’m here.’ He fumbles for Zero’s hand and squeezes his fingers quickly. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’

‘Hurts like a motherfucker, Jude,’ Zero hisses. He tries for a quick grin again, and it comes out more like a grimace.

‘Yeah, I know. They’re gonna fix you. They’re gonna sort it out. I’m right here, okay?’

‘Mr Kinkade, we’re going to move him out now, sir,’ the medic says apologetically.

Zero twitches his fingers, beckoning Jude closer. Jude leans over him, Zero’s breath shallow and hot on his cheek.

‘Kiss me,’ he murmurs, his voice thick with pain.

‘I’ll kiss you once you’ve brushed your teeth,’ Jude whispers back.

‘Jerk.’

‘Maybe that’ll teach you to be more careful with yourself.’

Zero chuckles faintly. His eyes are out of focus, and he whimpers gently when the medics lift him up. It breaks Jude’s heart – he’s left standing uselessly on the court, his knees stained with Zero’s vomit, and he still can’t catch his breath.

Lionel comes up behind him and puts her hand, steady and solid, between his shoulder blades. ‘Breathe, Jude,’ she says sharply. ‘He’ll be fine. My car’s out front. You might beat them to Cedars Sinai if you hurry.’

Jude sags against her.

*

The surgeon puts up a token _next-of-kin-only_ protest, but Jude’s not above using his name and a few quiet threats – the sort his father would be proud of – to bully the medical team into releasing details.

Ruptured ACL, the surgeon says. Emergency surgery, out for six months minimum. Could be permanent damage to the knee. Career-ending, potentially.

Zero’s already on the way down to the OR, the surgeon says. Jude sinks into the hard plastic chairs next to the nurses’ station and puts his head in his hands. He hates to think of Zero in this sterile, alien place, alone, in pain, scared and refusing to show it. Zero hates relying on anyone. He’s getting better at it, these days – he lets his heart crack open sometimes, lets Jude peek inside, lets himself ask for help, lets Jude help him, sometimes, just sometimes.

But this – this feels like a setback. And Zero is already unconscious on a cold metal operating table somewhere, tubes and wires attached, the muscles and sinew and layers of skin peeled back from his poor, mangled knee, naked to the bone, and Jude is sat uselessly in a stuffy waiting room, at a loss.

*

Lionel sweeps into the waiting room, heels clicking on the linoleum, and forces Jude to go home. He obeys, because he’s too tired and strung-out to do anything else, but he barely sleeps. He’s not used to being alone, any more, and whenever he closes his eyes he sees Zero’s leg twisted at that sickening angle.

He heads back to Cedar Sinai as soon as visiting hours start, and he’s dozing next to Zero’s bed when Zero comes round from the anaesthesia.

‘Jude,’ Zero groans softly, drawing it out. Jude sits bolt upright in his chair, spilling long-cold coffee everywhere.

‘Zero! You're awake! You feeling okay? You need anything?’

‘Man, it's good to see you,’ Zero slurs. ‘Always...always forget how nice your face is. Then I see it again, and I remember. Real nice. Real good face.’ His voice is dreamy, far-off, like he can't quite fix on reality.

Jude laughs around the tightness in his heart. ‘Nice to see your face too, buddy. Had me pretty worried for a while there.’ Jude is nothing if not a master of understatement.

‘Oh, you didn't need to worry,’ Zero says, in that same distracted way. ‘You worry too much. Worry, worry, worry. They won’t let me have the green juice, Jude. I asked them and they said I have to...I dunno. I forget. Something about the green...juice...or something.’

Zero’s eyes are out of focus, slipping closed, and even though Jude wants to force him to stay awake – not only is the drug-addled gibberish he's spouting pretty damn hilarious, but Jude wouldn’t mind hearing some more about how much Zero likes his face – he keeps quiet and lets Zero slip back to sleep.

He looks gentle, peaceful, mouth slightly open. Every worry line and twitch of tension vanishes from his face. His hair is messy and soft, not artfully gelled into place.

Jude already spends an embarrassing amount of time watching Zero sleep as it is, so he heaves himself stiffly from his chair and wanders off in search of the ward nurse.

*

When he returns with the nurse, Zero’s awake again, and still high as a kite.

‘Jude!’ he says, beaming. ‘You came back!’

‘Yeah, I came back,’ Jude says, unable to stop himself from breaking into a fond grin. ‘I was gone three minutes, tops.’

‘Man, I missed you.’ The nurse checks Zero’s IV, and adjusts his cannula, but Zero pays her no attention.

‘Well, I’m here now, okay?’

‘Missed you. God, Jude. Missed your face.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Jude has a feeling this could go on a while.

‘Missed your mouth.’

‘Okay, just settle down, and let nurse Lopes do her job, ‘kay?’

‘Love your mouth, Jude-y,’ Zero slurs.

‘Don’t call me Jude-y,’ Jude says, laughing.

Zero keeps going, no sign he’s heard a word Jude said. ‘Love your mouth. So good, y’know? Love that mouth.’ _Uh-oh._ Jude doesn’t like where this is headed, all of a sudden.

‘Okay, that’s enough,’ he says, praying to God Zero changes the habit of a lifetime and actually _listens_ for once.

He’s shit out of luck, it turns out, because Zero turns his head to the nurse, and says, conversationally, like they’re talking about the weather: ‘Jude gives really good head, you know. Like, _super_ good.’

‘Oh my _God_ , Zero, _’_ Jude hisses. ‘Shut _up.’_ Jude doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s gone bright purple.

‘It’s fine,’ the nurse says, grinning. ‘I’ve heard a lot worse, trust me.’

‘Like, he sucks my brain out through my dick on the reg,’ Zero says, his voice slurring. Jude is too busy praying for the ground to open up and swallow him to stop him from barrelling on. ‘He looks like a tight-ass in that suit, I know, looks he don’t know the first thing ‘bout a good time, but let me tell you, honey, you get your dick sucked by this guy, you ain’t never gonna want your dick sucked by no one else.’

Jude covers his face with his hands. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m _so_ sorry. He doesn’t mean it. He wouldn’t – it’s just the drugs. Oh man, I’m so sorry.’

The nurse is openly laughing now. ‘Please don’t worry, sir. He’s not being abusive. It’s absolutely fine.’

‘You shouldn’t have to hear this.’

‘Jude, Jude, the elephant is looking at me funny. I have to go now. I have to – when we go to Albuquerque…I have to…Jude…’ Zero trails off into a string of incoherent mumblings, and finally – _finally –_ falls silent, drifting back to sleep with an angelic expression on his face, like he wasn’t just pontificating loudly to a total stranger on the subject of Jude’s prowess at oral sex.

‘Thank _God,’_ Jude mutters. The nurse smiles to herself while she checks Zero’s chart, and she shoots him a final amused glance as she leaves the room.

Jude’s pretty sure he’s still blushing when he backs out of the hospital lot and drives back his apartment, but in between the mortification there’s this tiny piece of him that feels warm and proud and loved. Sure, he knows he turns Zero on – he’s got two-day-old scratch marks down his ribcage as just the latest evidence of that – but he still sometimes worries that he’s making up for lost time, hoping Zero won’t catch on exactly how little he knows what the hell he’s doing. So it’s kind of sweet to have a little validation, a little bit of positive feedback, even if it’s because his boyfriend is out of his mind on painkillers and completely lacking in any brain-to-mouth filter.

*

By the time Jude makes it to visiting the next morning, the drugs have worn off and Zero is crotchety.

‘Tube stuck up my dick. Food tastes like ass. Not the good kind. Nurses treating me like I’m a kid, like I’m gonna fall outta bed or OD on this nasty squash if they leave me alone for two whole minutes. S’humiliating, man. I'm going stir crazy.’

Jude suspects the nurses feel much the same way, but he declines to comment.

‘Doctors say you can discharge yourself this afternoon, if you’re feeling up to it.’

‘This afternoon? What’s wrong with right now, huh?’

‘They want you to see the physio before you go, lay a few ground rules about what you can and can’t do with it.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. Might come as a bit of a shock, but you’re not playing ball for a coupla months.’

Zero rolls his eyes, plucking at his hospital gown. ‘No shit. Man, Jude, you gotta hurry them up. I’m crawling up the walls.’

Jude laughs. ‘Okay, okay. You big baby. I’ll see what I can do, pull a few strings.’

‘You do know I’m only with you ‘cause your name opens doors, right?’ Zero squints at Jude.

‘And here I thought it was ‘cause you were after my supply of Cap’n Crunch and my Sports Illustrated subscription.’ Jude’s getting better at being teased.

‘That too,’ Zero says, grinning. ‘Cm’ere. I’ve had a traumatic experience. Don’t you think I’ve earned some sugar?’

Jude shakes his head, laughing, but gives in straight away, leaning over the hospital bed and pressing his mouth softly to Zero’s.

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?’ he murmurs against Zero’s mouth. ‘Just gonna sort things out at my place, then I’ll come pick you up. You need anything?’

‘Just bring me some fucking normal human clothes.’

‘Don’t worry, you look hot in that gown,’ Jude says, and yelps in surprise when Zero pinches his hip, hard. ‘Behave,’ Jude says, mock-sternly, ‘or I’ll leave you to the mercy of the nurses.’

Zero grins, and the echo of it stays with Jude the whole of the way home.

*

It’ll be nice, Jude reasons. He immediately feels guilty for thinking it, because for all his scheming and one-upmanship, Zero genuinely loves being on a basketball court, and it must suck being denied that for six months. But the selfish part of Jude – the part that sometimes thinks melodramatic things like _he’s pretty sure he’d die without Zero_ – that part thrills at the prospect of six months of Zero’s undivided attention.

It’ll be nice, the two of them holed up in Jude’s apartment with nothing to distract them from each other. It’ll be nice to look after Zero, too – it’s not that he _wants_ Zero to be injured, but at least he gets a chance to show Zero how much he means to him. In case he was in any doubt.

It’ll be nice, Jude thinks, pulling a box of cushions from under the bed so he can make a makeshift support for Zero’s leg.

*

It’s fun for about twenty minutes, fussing over Zero, letting him lean on him on the way from the car, making sure he’s comfy on the couch, fetching him some OJ and fixing him some nachos.

‘You’re the best,’ Zero says, craning his neck upwards for a kiss.

‘I know,’ Jude says, moving Zero’s glass so it’s within his reach. ‘I’m just gonna be through in the other room, okay? Got a pile of budget reports to get through.’

Zero pouts.

Jude, firing up his Macbook and shuffling around in his briefcase looking for the relevant documents, wonders idly whether he should be worried about how much he’s enjoying doting on his boyfriend. And what that says about him and his – what does his therapist call them? – _abandonment issues._

He’s spared too much soul-searching, though, because there’s an almighty clatter from the living room, and a strangled yelp from Zero.

‘Fuck, you okay?’ he yells, dashing through from the study. Zero’s tangled in an ungainly heap between the couch and the coffee table, trying to lever himself up with his arms. ‘No, no, stop moving,’ Jude says, rushing to kneel down next to him. ‘You’ll make it worse. Here –’ he offers his shoulder, and Zero slings his arm over it. ‘Careful, don’t jar your leg.’

Between them they manage to get Zero back on the couch.

‘You okay?’ Jude asks, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Zero huffs. ‘Only tried to reach for the fricking remote. Can’t do shit for myself. _Fuck!’_ He punches the cushion next to him angrily.

Jude sighs. ‘You gotta be patient. S’gonna take time. Just – don’t push yourself.’ ‘

Zero raises an eyebrow. ‘ _You_ wanna try being stuck on the couch for six months?’

Jude chooses to ignore that. ‘Listen, I’m gonna get my work, and come sit next to you. Then if you need something, I can just get it for you, okay? You can watch TV or whatever, you won’t disturb me.’

Zero grumbles under his breath, but it works well enough for a couple of hours. Jude manages to tune out _General Hospital_ or whatever crap Zero’s watching, and Zero manages to get himself to the bathroom and back on his crutches without causing any further mayhem.

After a couple of hours, though, he starts getting fidgety, and he starts picking at his cast irritably.

‘You want more codeine?’ Jude asks, clicking _send_ on his latest email to the board.

‘Nah, I’m okay,’ Zero says. ‘You wanna take me for a drive?’

‘Where?’

‘Don’t care. Anywhere. I’m gonna scream if I stay sat on this couch another minute.’

Jude frowns at his Macbook. He’s still got the insurance budget and two transfer projections to work through. Lionel’s counting on him. But then again, Zero’s counting on him, too. He chews his lip, torn. It’s no contest really, though. Jude flips the Macbook closed and stands up.

‘I’m taking you for fro-yo, okay?’

‘Hell, yeah!’

Work will just have to wait.

*

Jude’s bed is pretty big, and the mattress is only a couple of years old, so he figures it’ll be supportive enough for Zero’s leg.

But he doesn’t count on his own stupid brain keeping him awake, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, _worrying._ It’s his default state, of course, but he’s been getting better lately – it’s probably something to do with how Zero anchors him, makes him feel safe and normal and _home._

Zero’s all the way over on the other side of the bed, though, breathing shallowly, and Jude is wide awake at two a.m. worrying about whether Zero’s career will bounce back from this injury, about whether Zero wants Jude buzzing round him all the time, about whether he’s really cut out to be EVP, about Oscar, about what comes next, and next, and next.

Jude turns roughly onto his side, bunching his pillow up under his cheek – and he hears Zero wince, hissing through his teeth as Jude’s movement jostles the mattress. Jude freezes.

He stays motionless on his side. Zero needs his sleep. He can’t go being shaken awake every time Jude turns over.

It’s hopeless, though. Jude’s legs start to ache from the effort of trying to keep still, and he’s listening too hard to Zero’s breathing for any hint of pain. Eventually, he gives up. He slips from under the covers as quietly as he can, and grabs his pillow and the spare comforter, creeping through to the other room to sleep on the couch.

It’s not much better there. He’s too long for the couch, and his brain won’t stop whirring. He misses Zero’s arms around him, the familiar warmth, and the reassuring rhythm of his ribcage rising and falling against Jude’s back. The night ticks by, interminable.

Occasionally a car passes outside, headlights arcing over the ceiling. The raccoons have gotten into next door’s garbage again, and their clattering punctuates Jude’s restless dozing.

His thin blanket gets twisted around his legs, and at one point he nearly puts his foot through the coffee table trying to get comfortable again. The clock on the TV passes three, then four a.m. Jude gets up at quarter to five to splash his face, the clammy cold of the kitchen tiles doing more to wake him up than send him off to sleep.

He must drift off eventually, shallowly, though, because all of a sudden there’s daylight flooding in through the blinds and the whole couch is shaking.

‘ _Jude,’_ Zero is hissing, nudging his leg with his crutch. Jude jerks awake. His neck is sore, and his back’s not much better. ‘What you doing on the couch, stupid?’

‘Hm?’ Jude sits up and tries to rub some feeling into his face. The clock on the TV says seven forty-five.

‘Did you sleep here? Didn’t hear you get up.’ Zero’s already dressed; Jude wonders how long it took him, without help.

‘Yeah, I—’

‘Was I keeping you awake?’

Jude stifles a yawn. ‘No – no, it was the other way round. I kept jostling you. Need to –’ another yawn ‘- need to make sure you get a decent night’s sleep.’

Zero frowns. ‘That’s dumb, Jude. You look like hell. You come back to bed tonight, okay?’

‘But –’

‘Jude. It’ll be _fine._ We’re not debating this.’

Jude sits up to try to protest further, and his shoulder cracks audibly. Zero raises an eyebrow as if to say _told you so,_ and Jude knows he’s beaten.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘But if I keep you up, you gotta let me know, okay?’

Zero’s already levering himself towards the kitchen on his crutches in search of cereal.  

*

The novelty of looking after Zero wears off quickly. The guilt is etched into Zero’s face, and so is the anger. He’s a powder keg; the rage at his own helplessness coils under his skin. Jude tiptoes around him, and keeps his sympathy light and distant. He knows he can come across as clingy, and the last thing he wants to do is smother Zero.

He _misses_ Zero, though, how they used to be together, misses running into him in the bowels of the arena, those little clandestine smirks passing between them. He misses picking over the latest team politics with him, misses watching him set fire to the court.

He’s kind of surprised how much he misses sex, too. Sure, they manage, sort of, but it always takes a bit of forward planning and careful manoeuvring, and Jude always worries that he’s going to get carried away when he’s going down on Zero, and that he’ll accidentally grab his bad leg or topple them over. It’s all pretty tame, and cautious, and Jude misses the rough, bone-shaking, up-against-the-wall sex, the sort he never thought he’d like, but which it turns out he does, a _lot._

Zero goes for regular check-ups – sometimes Jude goes with him, sometimes he doesn’t – and sees the physio twice a week. He spends as much time bitching about it as he does in her actual surgery. Progress is painstakingly slow, and Jude stops asking how it’s going after Zero snarls ‘fucking awesome, Jude, how d’you _think_ it’s going?’ at him.

Work is a nightmare. They’re fighting off a spurious but well-financed lawsuit - something about the Devils logo constituting copyright infringement or some bullshit. Jude knows he should be better versed on the details, but he’s got a million balls in the air; he’s got the NBA and the network sponsors breathing down his neck, and the second stringers’ agents are nagging him to pressure Pete into putting their guys on the court. And Oscar. And Jelena. It never ends.

Jude knows it’s not Zero’s fault, and he knows Zero’s in pretty near constant pain with his leg, but these days Jude wakes every morning a little more stressed, and a little more resentful, and all he wants is Zero’s attention on him, _just_ on him, for a tiny moment.

Before he ruptured his ACL, Zero would have picked up that Jude was stressed within five seconds, and would have poked and prodded him, prised him open, with those shrewd eyes and pinpointed words – he’d have dragged it all out into the open, because Jude never could hide anything from him, and wouldn’t want to, anyway.

He’s being selfish, he knows – Zero needs to focus on his recovery, one hundred per cent, and Jude has Lionel for support, when Zero has no one, really, but him.

Jude swallows his frustration, and treads softly around Zero, and counts down the days until things are back to normal.

*

Things get even more tense when Jude tries to convince Zero to come to more games.

‘You need to remind everyone who you are,’ Jude says, because sometimes he finds it hard to snap out of agent mode. ‘Not just the fans. The sponsors, Pete, your teammates. They need to believe you’re chomping at the bit, ready to slot straight back in once you’re fit.’

‘So, what? I just sit courtside reminding everyone my leg’s bust?’

‘ _No_ , reminding everyone that you’re fully committed to your recovery, and that you’re still a part of the team.’

Zero scowls. ‘Sounds like bull.’

‘Suit yourself,’ Jude snaps. ‘I’ll save you a seat. You do whatever the hell you want.’

They’re halfway through the first quarter, and the Devils are five points down, when Zero slumps into the seat next to Jude, throwing his crutches down on the floor noisily.

Jude braves a glance at him; he’s got his arms folded, and he’s definitely sulking. He barely applauds the baskets, and when the Devils eventually pull it back for the win, he gives his teammates the curtest of shoulder-pats before limping his way back out of the arena.

He’s already in bed when Jude gets home from the game, his back to Jude’s side of the bed.

Jude slips under the covers as quietly as he can. It’s going to be another night of staring at the ceiling and worrying, he suspects.

The lump beside him wriggles slightly.

‘Sorry I forced you to go,’ Jude says carefully. He’s not up for fighting, but he’s not backing down, either.

‘It’s not that I don’t wanna be part of the team,’ Zero mumbles into the covers. He’s still on his side, so Jude can’t see his face. ‘It just hurts, y’know?’ Zero says quietly. ‘Just wanna play ball. S’like, like rubbing salt in the wound, watching Terrence and Derek tearing it up. And I’m just sat there. Fucking useless.’

Jude exhales slowly. He rolls over and wraps an arm across Zero’s chest. Zero pushes closer into Jude’s body heat.

‘You’re gonna be back there, you hear me?’ Jude murmurs in Zero’s ear. ‘You’re gonna be back there, you’re gonna be MVP, and none of them’ll be able to stop you. You gotta believe that. Okay? You listening to me?’

Zero doesn’t answer; he just grabs Jude’s arm and pulls it tighter across his chest.

*

They settle into a cautious routine. Zero tries not to fidget too much when he’s bored, and Jude tries not to get tetchy when he’s in a rush to get out of the house and Zero needs help duct-taping a garbage bag around his cast so he can take a shower.

Zero stops whining about the physio and starts doing the exercises she sets him, sprawled on the rug in front of the TV, his legs flailing in the air while Jude tries to watch HBO around them.

Jude’s sleeping better, and he figures Zero is, too. Jude fetches them breakfast in bed most mornings, and Zero only manages to kick the cafetiere all over the covers once.

They don’t talk about the team. They don’t talk about the latest ownership challenge. They don’t talk about Zero’s recovery, and the struggle he faces to break back into the team, even though it hangs heavy in the air between them, sometimes.

It works, just about. Jude reminds himself it’s not forever, that Zero’ll be back to full strength soon. Then he feels guilty for thinking that, because he should be ready to drop everything and look after Zero _forever,_ if that’s what it takes.

_In sickness and in health,_ an unhelpful little voice at the back of his mind volunteers, and it sends a shiver of what might be panic through him.

*

‘Stay. Still.’ Jude spreads his hand over Zero’s sternum and presses down, hard. Zero cranes his neck upwards. His pupils are huge. He looks smug as hell that he managed to talk Jude into this.

‘Shit, Jude, you’re driving me crazy.’

‘I mean it, stay fucking still,’ Jude says. He’s straddling Zero, Zero’s cock deep in him, making his thighs tremble. Jude edges upwards slowly, slowly, and he feels every millimetre of it in the way Zero groans softly.

‘Jude, God, come _on.’_ His hips twitch, and Jude stops.

‘Stay still. You move a muscle, and I’m stopping right now.’

‘You wouldn’t.’ Zero’s voice is thick with desire. They’re both panting heavily.

‘I – _fuck –_ I would.’

‘Holy shit, Jude,’ Zero says, his hands on Jude’s hips, guiding him. ‘If I’d known this was what it needed to make you take control - fuck, I’d have snapped my own leg months ago.’

Jude laughs, and it turns into a grunt halfway through when he bears back down on Zero’s cock, feeling it spark up to the base of his spine.

‘You look so good, riding me. Come on, Jude, I know you got more than that.’ Zero reaches up, hooks a hand round the back of Jude’s neck and pulls him down so their faces are close together. Jude can see the sweat beading on Zero’s brow. He shifts again, splitting himself open on Zero’s cock, and Zero sighs against Jude’s mouth.

‘You drive me crazy, you know that?’

‘You better not be moving that leg,’ Jude whispers. It’s slow, so slow – when usually it’s fast and frantic and clawing and scrabbling, and it feels so intense that Jude’s amazed his heart’s still beating.

‘I’m not moving that leg.’ Zero’s whispering too, and he’s biting his lip so hard it’s gone white. His fingertips are almost painful, skewered into the flesh of Jude’s hips.

‘You better not be.’ Jude’s fighting hard to keep his breathing steady, to keep from slamming down onto Zero’s hips, again and again until his vision whites out. 

‘I wouldn’t dare.’

‘Good.’ Jude rests his forehead against Zero’s. Sweat and hair and skin fused. ‘Good,’ he hisses again, kissing Zero hard, nipping slightly until he hears Zero whine into his mouth.

‘God, Jude,’ Zero pants. ‘Come _on,_ move, dammit.’

‘I’ll move when you promise not – not – oh, _Jesus_ – not to move your leg.’

Jude moves anyway, because his skin feels like it’s on fire, and his bones feel like they’re disappearing. He tries not to, but he speeds up anyway – Zero’s cock feels so good inside him, after weeks and weeks of only fingers to keep him satisfied – and he hears Zero’s soft, broken grunts speed up as Jude rides him harder.

‘Come on, come on,’ Zero is panting, and Jude does as he’s told. He braces himself with one hand on Zero’s shoulders, and reaches down with the other to jerk himself off, sloppy and uncoordinated.

Zero hisses in his ear, his voice cracking, ‘God, you look so hot, love fucking you, _Christ_.’ And that’s it – Jude comes over Zero’s stomach, burying his face in Zero’s shoulder to muffle the groan he can’t keep in.

He’s dimly aware of Zero scratching lightly up and down his spine, of Zero’s lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.

‘You better not be moving that leg,’ Jude says vaguely, still a little light-headed, his face still nestled against Zero’s collarbone.

‘Nah,’ Zero says lazily. ‘Can’t really feel anything anyway. Think you fried all my nerve endings.’

Jude laughs. He still feels too weak to clamber off Zero. Everything is a little hazy. It’s bliss. ‘Me too.’

‘We should try that again some time.’

‘Guess we should.’ Jude turns his head to kiss Zero gently on the mouth. Zero hums contentedly against his lips.

‘Love you,’ Zero says, his arms running up and down Jude’s biceps. It still shocks Jude, how sincere and intense Zero can be after sex.

Jude says, ‘Love you too,’ and he’s smiling, and his heart is still pounding.

*

The doctor finally signs off on light exercise after five months and six long days. Zero’s all for getting straight on the court and shooting hoops, of course.

‘Which bit of _light exercise_ didn’t you understand?’ Jude says.

Zero pulls a face. ‘What, shall I go play some bowls? Maybe a couple of games of darts? Make sure I don’t get my heart rate up too much?’

‘Do you wanna twist your knee and put yourself back out for another month?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ Zero says, throwing himself on the couch, and clearly relishing the fact that he’s now able to do so without risking serious damage to his leg. He folds his arms and looks ready for a lengthy sulk.

Luckily, Jude has one trump card.

‘We _could_ go running together. If you wanted.’

Zero’s eyes light up. ‘Yeah?’ He’s been nagging Jude to work out with him since they first knew each other in Ohio. Even though frequent exposure to Zero’s _ridiculous_ torso miraculously hasn’t resulted in Jude developing a body complex, up til now Jude’s drawn the line at working out together. Zero’s a professional athlete, and Jude’s sporting career peaked with Little League, and he’s really not up for looking dumb in front of the love of his life.

Now, though, with Zero still on the mend, the potential for abject humiliation is perhaps slightly lower than usual.

‘Yeah, why not?’ he says, shrugging.

Zero lets out an uncharacteristic whoop and leaps off the couch to fetch his sneakers.

*

They run along the Santa Monica beach, kicking up sand behind them, the sun low over the hills. The ocean spreads out vast to the horizon. Jude keeps pace with Zero with little difficulty, and chooses to believe it’s not because Zero’s slowing down for him.

Jude feels like a weight’s been lifted. He feels light, untethered. He feels like yelling into the surf, into the gathering breeze, because they’re out of the apartment, and the wind is in their hair, and Zero’s knee is bearing up – he’ll be unstoppable on the court soon – and the frustrations and irritations of the past few months are falling away like clouds, and Jude is alive and happy and _in love._

They stop, panting, and Jude flops down into the sand.

‘Did I tire you out?’ Zero says, laughing, standing over him with the setting sun behind him.

Jude squints up at him. ‘You wish. Don’t wanna push you too hard on your first day back in action.’

Zero puts his hands on his hips. ‘Excuses, excuses.’

Jude snorts. ‘Come and sit down. C’mon. Look at this view.’

Zero complies, sitting down next to Jude with his arms wrapped around his knees. They sit quietly for a few minutes, watching dog-walkers and surfers beetle up and down the beach. Jude closes his eyes, savouring the last warmth of the sun on his face. He didn’t know it could be like this; he didn’t know there could be a person in the world who could make him feel calm and churned-up and safe and breathless and invincible and _normal,_ all at once. His body feels too small, too mortal to hold all these feelings.

‘Hey, Jude?’

Jude cracks an eye open. ‘Hm?’

‘I –’ Zero stops. Jude glances at him; he’s staring steadfastly out at the ocean, like he’s afraid to look Jude in the face.

‘Yeah?’ Jude says softly.

‘Guess I’ve been kind of a dick these past few months. Just – figured I should apologise. Dunno what I’d’ve done without you.’

‘You don’t have anything to apologise for.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I do. Don’t ever want you to think I take you for granted, Jude.’ Zero stops. ‘Cos I _don’t,’_ he adds vehemently.

Jude swallows. ‘I know.’

‘I just want you to know how grateful I am, okay? And I’m sorry. For being, y’know, a dick.’ Zero’s still looking out at the ocean.

‘Look at me.’ Jude’s voice trembles slightly, and he clears his throat and tries again. ‘Look at me, Gideon.’

Zero turns his head slowly. Eyes fixed like lasers, like magnets.

‘I did it because I knew you’d do the same for me, okay?’

Zero nods. ‘I would. You know I would.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I always will,’ Zero whispers, frowning. Earnestness still feels new on Zero; Jude can see him fighting the urge to be flippant or sarcastic.

Zero reaches across the sand and curls his fingers around Jude’s thumb. ‘ _Always_ ,’ he says more firmly. He looks down at their joined hands, and then back up to look Jude in the eyes, and he looks almost scared, so Jude shuffles across in the sand and leans their foreheads together, before Zero can bring the shutters down again, before he closes up his heart.a

‘Me too,’ Jude murmurs into the tiny space between them. ‘Always. Okay. Always.’ It feels like the best promise there is.

 

 


End file.
